Blood Secrets - By Jeannie Holmes Page 0,91
of these things and let’s see just how reasonable I can be?”
“Nice try.” He picked up a folder from his workstation. “I’ll give you an ‘A’ for effort but I don’t believe you’re ready to run free yet.”
While she continued to struggle and hurl insults at him, he opened the file and withdrew a large black-and-white photo. He held it up for her to see.
She seemed to stare through him.
“Look at this photo, Alexandra.”
“I can’t fucking see, asshole.”
Peter frowned and set the photo aside. He grabbed her jaw, forcing her to tilt her head back, despite her resistance. He carefully examined her eyes and then released her. “Temporary blindness most likely resulting from too rapid a transition through the Veil. It’ll pass.”
“Thank you for the enlightenment, Doctor Quackenstein.”
He picked up the photo again, determined to proceed regardless of her limitations. “I got this photo from the FBPI archives. The Freedom of Information Act the humans cooked up has been incredibly useful.” He examined the photo depicting a group of men and a handful of women—twenty-five in total. “It’s interesting. Here are some of the most well-known Hunters turned Enforcers, and who should be standing among them but Daddy Dearest.”
“That photo is a lie. My father was a history professor.”
“No, Bernard was the big fucking liar.” He picked up a stack of papers from the worktable. “I checked the University of Louisville’s faculty roster going all the way back to when the school was founded. It says Bernard Sabian taught history there from 1957 until his death in 1968.”
“He did.”
“No!” Peter slammed the stack onto the table. “His name was added after he died.”
“That’s insane! Who would—”
“The Bureau—or rather, the organization that would become the Bureau.” He held up the photo again. “I believe you’ll recognize the names Damian Alberez, Morgan Dreyer, Woody Phelps, who now sits on the Bureau Tribunal, as you know, and Gregor Wahl—oh, yes, and of course your father and Varik Baudelaire.”
She clenched her jaw but said nothing.
“They were partners, your father and Varik,” he explained, pointing to each individual as he named them. “You see, Daddy Dearest started life as a Hunter. Yes, underneath that lovable exterior, your sainted father was a cold-hearted, murdering bastard.”
“You’re lying,” she whispered.
“Sadly, no.” He sighed and continued his story. “Once Phelps discovered Bernard’s ability to enter the Shadowlands and, more specifically, the Hall of Records, he was removed from active duty. He—along with the other Talents, as they were called—would routinely scan the vampire population using their psychic abilities, looking for rogues and violations of vampiric law. However, Bernard was given a very special assignment: he was told to scan only other Hunters, including the Talents, for signs of turning rogue.”
He tapped his finger on Baudelaire’s likeness. “Any Hunter or Talent found to be rogue was turned over to Lover Boy, who then dealt with them as quickly and quietly as possible. You see, while Bernard had psychic talents, Varik’s talents lie in killing. He became one of the most feared Hunters of all times.”
He shrugged. “Well, at least he was until he killed an innocent boy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and swore never to kill again. He then moved on to training other Hunters, and eventually Enforcers, which is how the two of you met.”
His gaze drifted to the dark-haired woman standing to the left of Bernard. “Siobhan Kelly.” Peter smiled. “You recognize the name, don’t you?”
She leaned her head back against the faux wall housing the restraint devices. “No.”
“Now who’s lying, darling?”
“I’m not your fucking darling, asshole!”
“Not yet.”
“Not ever.”
“We’ll see about that.” He set the folder and photo on the worktable. “I’ll give you time to think about what I’ve said. Shall we continue in the morning?”
She rested her head against the faux wall once more, refusing to look in his direction.
He hopped down the attic stairs and opened the hidden door into the hallway. As he made his way to his bedroom, a sense of satisfaction enveloped him. Everything was going according to plan and once he finished showing her the extent of the lies that framed her life, she would willingly sever the bond to Varik and finally give herself over to him.
twenty
November 19
ALEX HAD BEEN MISSING FOR NEARLY NINETEEN HOURS, and Varik drifted in numbness.
The memory of Alex screaming his name over the blood-bond continued to haunt him. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel a specter of her touch, a spark of her mind’s warmth. He